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Thursday, July 31, 2014

Bizarro Quick Sand

I'm sitting here staring at this empty page trying to figure out what to say. And by that of course I mean that I'm sitting here looking at funny pictures on the internet while simultaneously imagining that I'm staring at the empty page trying to figure out what to say.

I always feel guilty when people send me funny pictures because I guarantee you that I've seen it already, so I just don't know how to react. I try to fake a jolly guffaw, but it just never comes out right. Maybe guffaw isn't what I should be going for. That being said, anybody who ever wants to send me a funny picture should still do it! It's like my favorite gesture of all. "Hey, I just saw this really hilarious thing that made me blow air out of my nose harder than usual, and it made me think of you, and now I'm sharing it with you BECAUSE I CARE." Funny pictures are like the flowers of the internet. Funny pictures are the funny pictures of the internet. That makes a lot more sense in my head.

Internet pictures are also informative, by the way. Basically all of my knowledge about Orlando Bloom throwing a punch at Justin Bieber came in picture form. Also, this was pointed out to me:

And I appreciate whoever thought of it.

















I have no idea why I have been talking about this so long. I guess I'm just a little sick of writing about sad things on here and bringing everybody down. But I want to talk about sad things, so I'm easing you into it maybe.

It's been a crappy week. Many of you already know that it was my anniversary on Monday, which was actually a surprisingly not so bad day. I went to the temple, and got my nails done, and went to dinner and a movie with my friends. We saw the Fault in Our Stars, because I apparently I just wanted to see approximately how many tears my body could physically handle. It's a lot. But it still felt good to just get it all out.

So I had people around me all day, and that was great, and I focused on the positive. But at the end of the night I was still alone on my anniversary without my husband. And the next day I was alone. And I'm still alone. And you may be surprised to learn that it still really sucks.

This is one of those times when I find it's the most important to just keep going, even if it is the smallest, tiniest bit. For a couple days there I got stuck, and I started shutting down again. I sat around and wallowed. And nothing makes things worse than wallowing. I don't think it will be a huge shock to discover that I have struggled a bit with depression after Josh died. Things have already gotten so much better, but it's just inevitable to feel that suffering after losing someone you love.

I see my depression as something like quick sand, but also kind of the opposite of quick sand. But I don't want to call it slow sand because that doesn't really make much sense either. It's like the Bizarro world Superman but for quick sand. Bizarro Quick Sand. I call dibs on copyrights if that ends up being a comic book villain some day. I feel as though there is this thing in the pit of my heart that is my sadness. And it's never going to go away, and there will always be times when I feel it. And that's okay. But if you sit in the sand for too long and dwell on it and relent and stress over it and think and think and think about it, trying to bring reason to it or figure out what you could have done differently, then before you know it your head is in the ground and you can't breathe. And I've heard that breathing is pretty good for your health. Sometimes it's healthy for me to think about what happened to Josh. I like to remember our last moments together. But in the past, all I did was blame myself for everything that happened. I felt like every single bad moment, and every single trial, were brought about because I either didn't act or acted wrong.

I don't think that anymore. I still struggle with it, but I tell myself all the time that if there was anything that could have been done to save Josh, he would have been saved. It's not my fault. It's not anybody's fault.

So instead of sitting in a pit of sand and letting it suffocate me, the only thing I can do is get up and brush it off. I just have to keep going. Sometimes I don't feel like I have anywhere to go, but I have to go anyway. It's okay for me to take a break. It's not bad to rest. It is bad to fall asleep. In the metaphor, I mean. Sleep is okay for realsies.

I don't want anyone to think that I'm trying to explain how depression is for everyone, and I definitely don't want anyone to think I'm trying to tell people who suffer with it that this is how to get over it. This is my situation. This is how I deal with what I have to deal with. The only person I want to explain is myself, and the only person I have authority over is me.

I want to thank everyone who has reached out to me ever over the last seven and a half months. Every single word has been heard and appreciated.

And for reading all of that, I give you wise words from Ron Swanson. Don't try to read into any correlations between what I just talked about and what he's saying. It's just funny is all.















Double bonus! A picture of Logan and me! Full disclosure, my whole face was showing in this picture, but I wasn't feeling it.